I'm Sorry
by Amarth Obstreperous
Summary: Gollum suffered alot. And the manner of his death is canonically important. But he really does deserve a decent death. .


Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, and I don't own Gollum. I am sorrowful that I do not. I would dearly love to have Smeagol as a pet.  
  
************  
  
"Precious, precious, precious!" Gollum cried. "My Precious! O my Precious!" And with that, even as his eyes were lifted up to gloat on his prize, he stepped too far and tripping on a peice of rock, fell backwards.  
  
Gollum landed with a thud on his back, right next to the chasm. The force of his landing caused his hands to fly open, and the Ring, still circling Frodo's finger, flew out of his hand and over the abyss.  
  
It hung in the air for a moment, then dropped.  
  
"PRECIOUSSSSSSS!!!!!!!" Gollum screamed, clawing at the edge of the cliff and staring wild-eyed into the fiery pit.  
  
At that point, the pitiful creature probably would have jumped down after his Precious.  
  
But there was a roar and a great confusion of noise. Fires leapt up and licked the roof. The throbbing grew to a great tumult, and the Mountain shook.  
  
Sam ran to Frodo and picked him up and carried him out to the door. Gollum, whose world was spinning and whose thoughts were all jumbled, somehow registered their flight.  
  
Feeling the heat of the soon-to-explode Mountain begin to scorch him, he whimpered and fled after the two hobbits.  
  
As Frodo and Sam crawled and stumbled down the mountain trail that was covered in ash, Gollum lagged behind them, crawling on unsteady hands and feet.  
  
His minds was still whirling.  
  
He felt a deep hurt, as if a part of him had been ripped away.  
  
And yet he also felt a sense of euphoria welling up inside him. He was light headed, and all his muscles seemed to be relaxing, as the strain of his complusions began to ebb away.  
  
He was becoming tired. So very tired.  
  
The insane desire for the Ring that had forced him to cross the Plains of Gorgoroth with no food and practically no water was swiftly gone. And with it, what little energy he still had left was quickly vanishing.  
  
As Frodo and Sam came to collapse on the low ashen hill piled at the Mountain's foot, Gollum crept up behind them and collapsed a little farther down the slope, but not too far dowm. For a thick river of lava had circled the hill, and was slowly rising.  
  
Gollum curled up into a little ball and moaned softly. He felt sick, dizzy, and horribly hungry.  
  
Coherent thought was out of the question. A large portion of his mind had dissolved with the Ring, and the creature Stinker no longer existed.  
  
Gollum was Gollum no more, for his dark side that had caused him to do so many horrible things was now gone. He was Smeagol, forever and always.  
  
As Smeagol registered this revelation in his mind, all his confused thoughts seem to fly away. Nothing needed explaning anymore. He was simply as he was, where he was. But he was so tired...  
  
"Smeagol."  
  
The mutated hobbit looked up sharply as he heard his name spoken. A sharp gasp tore from his throat as he beheld the speaker.  
  
It seemed he saw a ghost before him. The wraithlike creature was translucent, and flickered in the air. His face was expressionless, his arms hung limply at his sides. Only his eyes moved, and those held Smeagol's gaze with a forceful glare.  
  
The finger marks on his neck were reddish, and clearly visible. Four long bruises along either side of his neck, and two round spots on the throat.  
  
Fingers and thumbs.  
  
Smeagol cringed involuntarily, crouching low to the ashy ground. He whimpered and started to cry, for he knew who stood before him.  
  
His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke.  
  
"Oh, Deagol. We...I mean, I-" The ghostly figure cut him off.  
  
"Shhh. It's alright. It's fine." Deagol said, smiling softly. His eyes were no longer harsh and cold.  
  
"But we...I...I did..." Smeagol cringed, unable to admit the horrible truth right to his friend's face.  
  
"*You* did nothing." Deagol said sternly, almost as if he was reprimanding a child. "All you, Smeagol, can be accused of is succumbing to your evil side. And considering what he force behind that evil was, you didn't have much of a chance."  
  
Smeagol stared wide-eyes at the specter. Was Deagol...forgiving him?  
  
"I-I'm sorry anyway!" He blurted out, pale tears dripping down his cheeks.  
  
Deagol reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Smeagol's shoulder.  
  
"I forgive you, my friend. I forgive you with all my heart. After all, I too felt an attraction to the Ring. That is why I refused to give It to you. Why, if you hadn't killed me for It, I might have ended up in *your* situation."  
  
Deagol seemed to shudder at the thought.  
  
"But let us not talk of such things." He said. "The past is behind you now."  
  
Still smiling, Deagol put both hands on Smeagol's shoulders and raised him to his feet. For the first time in centuries, Smeagol found it suprisingly easy to stand fully upright.  
  
"Come with me." Deagol said. "You have suffered enough, and deserve peace in death."  
  
The wraith then turned and began to descend the hill.  
  
Happy tears sliding down his face, Smeagol quickly followed his friend. He walked down until there was molten lava lapping about his ankles. But suprisingly, it did not burn him. Rather, it seemed to flow through him...  
  
A quick flash of white light caused Sam and Frodo to both quickly turn their heads to the right. Despite their pain and ehxhaustion, they both found enough energy to sit up and gasp at what they saw.  
  
On the slope of the hill, right where Gollum had fallen, stood a hobbit. He had his back to Frodo and Sam, but upon hearing them gasp loudly, he turned around and faced them.  
  
There stood the figure that had watched Frodo and Sam as they slept on the stairs of Cirith Ungol. There stood the old and weary hobbit, streched and faded almost beyond sight. His eyes were tired and heavy, but he smiled slightly as he observed the two hobbits.  
  
"I'm sorry." He said, his voice thin and whispery, full of remorse.  
  
He stared at Frodo. "I'm sorry for everything. For everything and anything I've ever done."  
  
His expression solemn, he looked straight at Sam.  
  
"But I'm not a Stinker anymore." He announced quite forcefully. "Nor a Slinker, either. I'm finally me again. And you can hate me all you want, because it doesn't matter anymore. I'm free."  
  
Smeagol suddenly cocked his head to the side, as if listening to a faraway voice. He quickly turned and began to run down the hill.  
  
As he ran, his form grew paler and more transparent.  
  
"Hey, wait up!" Smeagol called. His voice was suddenly very distant.  
  
"It's not a fair race if you get a head start!" He shouted again, running as fast as he could away from the mountain.  
  
Sam and Frodo watched Smeagol as he vanished entirely. Right before their very eyes.  
  
  
  
"Well, I'll be." Sam said finally, eyes wide with astonishment. "He just faded away!"  
  
"The Ring was the only thing keeping him alive." Frodo said. "He would have perished long ago but for the One's corruption. Had he been killed earlier, it would have been a merciful death, and service to what remained of his sanity. But as it is, he died in his right mind."  
  
"But he's gone now beyond recall, gone for ever." Sam said, still mystified by what he had just witnessed.  
  
"Yes," Said Frodo. "But do you remember Gandalf's words: *Even Gollum may have something yet to do?* But for him, Sam, I could not have destroyed the Ring. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the quest is acheived, and now all is over. I am glad you are here with me. Here is the end of all things, Sam."  
  
**************  
  
Well, that was mushy and crappy. Makes sense, since it's two in the morning right now.  
  
Amazing what your brain cooks up when you can't sleep, eh?  
  
R&R, if you wanna. I would appreciate it. 


End file.
